


All The Things You Are

by TheClownPrinceOfGay (orphan_account)



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Crack, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, George is literally the dad of the trio, M/M, Multi, gay lmao, idk what else to tag tbh, so is The King so it’s Fine, thomas is an asshole tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2019-03-31 14:24:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13976994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/TheClownPrinceOfGay
Summary: What Washington opened his eyes to was sunlight streaming in through the window, the red and orange leaves waving at him from outside, crisp white sheets, and his two greatest comforts in the world.In which Washington, The King, and Jefferson are lovers, and enjoy a still moment in the contentment of each other.





	All The Things You Are

What Washington opened his eyes to was sunlight streaming in through the window, the red and orange leaves waving at him from outside, crisp white sheets, and his two greatest comforts in the world.

He locked eyes with Jefferson, who smiled gently, his steady hands continuing to trace patterns on The King’s shoulder and collarbone. The Brit slept on, breathing evenly from his position on his back between the taller two men.

“Good morning,” the blond man murmured, and Washington smiled, blinking away the sticky remains of sleep. “Mm,” he hummed in content,“Ditto.” Jefferson just chuckled, having been awake the longest, before turning his eyes to the still-slumbering one of the three lovers.

“He’s not gonna wake up on his own, is he?”

Washington yawned, smirked, and rubbed at one of his groggy eyes. “You know he’s not, Thomas.”

Jefferson eyes twinkled when he smiled this time, and he started to nudge The King’s shoulder and whisper his name. The King began to stir, furrowing his eyebrows and grunting. “C'mon, man, you’ve gotta get up to make pancakes for me an’ George,” Jefferson was teasing quietly, pushing on the other man’s shoulder.

The monarch grumbled and turned over onto his side so that he was facing Washington, who had a silly grin stuck on his face.

“Screw off, I’m tryna bloody sleep.”

Jefferson snickered, but the way he brushed The King’s hair off of his forehead so tenderly countered his pestering attitude. “He’s so British when he’s tired.” He went back to nudging at the shorter man, poking at his back and shoulderblades and shaking him. “Frederick, seriously, get up.”

The King let out a petulant whine. “No….George…” He snuggled further into the brown-eyed man, attempting to simultaneously move away from Jefferson and prevent himself from having to accept the responsibilities of facing the day. Washington simpered. “You’re so immature, Francis.”

The King just grunted and pushed his face into Washington’s neck.

“He was up until, like, 4:30 am,” Jefferson yawned. Washington squinted at the clock peeking out from behind the Virginian’s shoulder. 8:45am exactly.

“He’s a workaholic,” the American sighed, focusing on the unruly brown hair just next to his cheek. “He does need to get up, though.” He spoke the last part the loudest and most deliberately, knowing that The King could hear him.

“No, he doesn’t,” came the muffled response. Washington couldn’t help but laugh, forced to give up on the faux-annoyed tone. He ran a hand through The King’s hair instead, too enamored with the men he had been blessed with.

Jefferson was more mischievous, however. Washington looked up to find the dark haired man grinning, with a finger pressed against his lips. Washington was confused, but interested, and didn’t say anything, waiting with relish for the shorter man’s peaceful morning to be ruined.

Washington wasn’t surprised to find that Jefferson’s method worked the best. The King nearly leapt up when the dark haired man dug his fingers into his sides, tickling with near-malice.

“A-AH! I’m up! I’m up! S-stop, please!” The King cried out; he laughed, squirmed, and cackled with abandon. Jefferson and Washington burst into laughter as well and fell back into the mattress as the monarch caught his breath.

“Oh my god,” Jefferson giggled. “You’re so fun to mess with, George.” The King blushed pink, covered his eyes with one arm, and flipped Jefferson off with the other.

“Aww, my feelings,” the southern whimpered, clutching at his chest in a mock-offended manner until The King pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. The monarch rested his head back next to Washington’s, letting his arm flop onto the American’s chest.

Jefferson grinned and wrapped his arms around the shorter of the trio as he nuzzled his face into the back of his neck, eliciting a small giggle from the Brit but nothing more; The King’s smile remained as he nodded off once again.

Washington wondered if he should join The King or remind them all that it was time to get up. Then he caught Jefferson’s eye again.

“Go back to sleep,” Jefferson murmured, voice low, soothing. Washington felt fingers entwine with his own, and allowed himself to smile, a warm flower blooming in his chest and catching butterflies in his stomach as he relaxed into the comfort of the bed.

His movements now languid, the man with the brown hair brought Jefferson’s hand up and kissed it chastely; he swore that he could feel the other’s man soft smile without even seeing it. And, though he was already asleep, Washington kissed The King’s forehead once, then twice, before letting his limbs go and his eyelids shut.

Washington fell into a warm sleep, never having felt more safe in his life.

**Author's Note:**

> I still don’t know what I’m doing


End file.
